Baker's Lament
by Erik Jeagge
Summary: Everyone remembers when the Baker runs away. There are billions of thoughts going through his head. What does he do? Contemplate. Enter the mind of the Baker during his meltdown in Baker's Lament.


Baker's Lament

"It's the _last_ midnight. It's the _last_ verse. Now before it's past midnight I'm leaving you my _last_ curse! I'm leaving you alone. You can tend the garden, it's yours, separate and alone; everybody down on all fours! Alright Mother when? Lost the beans again! Punish me the way you did then; give me claws and a hunch just away from this bunch and the gloom and the doom and the boom CRUNCH!"

Those were her last words before the Witch dissipated in fire and smoke. The four of them stood in stunned silence. For what felt like hours, nobody moved or broke the silence; even the infant in Cinderella's arms ceased his crying. The naïve lad Jack was the first to speak.

"Maybe I shouldn't have stolen from the Giant," he said in a small voice.

"Maybe I shouldn't have strayed from the path," whimpered Heather.

"Maybe I shouldn't have attended the ball," Cinderella spoke, now comforting the crying child. It was silent for a few moments before the Baker spoke.

"…yes maybe you shouldn't have," said Arthur coldly. With that, he stood and stiffly moved away from the stunned group.

"Where are you going!" Jack asked the Baker.

"Away from here," he answered quickly, still walking away.

"But… you said we had to find our way out of this togeth-" but Heather was quickly cut off by a frightened and confused Baker.

"NO it doesn't matter if were together or apart!"

"We need your help," pleaded Jack.

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" shouted Arthur. There was a second of silence before he spoke again. "My wife was the one who really helped…. I depended on her for everything…" He once again turned and started to move away when Cinderella blocked his path.

"You would leave your child!" she stammered in a combination of anger and disbelief. Arthur thought before he spoke.

"I think my child will be happier in the arms of a princess." With that final comment, he ran off, farther into the woods, ignoring their calls behind him. He didn't care. Their fates were not nearly as important as his Margret's was to him. Now she was gone forever and the last words they had shared before they went off in the words were full of anger and fright. Her words had hurt. Sure he was a bit of a worrywart but he only cared for her and their son's safety, and because of her stupidity, her rash behavior, her carelessness, he would never see his beloved wife again; another victim of the Giantess.

How could he live without her? He depended on her for his sanity! His wellbeing! His life was worthless without her! Was it worth it all? What was to happen to him, Arthur the Baker? Was his fate the same as his wife's? To be crushed through the actions of a Giantess would be a terrible thing. To go insane, alone in the woods, like his father had could be a fate worse. Perhaps… he should end it then and there, but how could he? If only he could find his sister's tower. It was somewhere in these woods. Then again, that tower was only as tall as the height of two men. Would a leap from the tower end his life? It may only cripple him making his death more painful and agonizing. Then, it dawned on him. He still had the knife he used to cut open the wolf to save Heather and her Grandmother! He could do it. It would be easy; a lot easier and less painful than either of the fates that could come to pass should he not. He'd also be with his Margret… his beloved Margret. These thoughts rushed through his head quicker than the mice that scurried around his store in the village. He was moving at a steady pace through the woods when he stumbled upon a clearing.

"This could be the perfect place," he thought to himself, "There's even a stump in the center where I might sit and gather my thoughts before…" The Baker froze in his tracks. Any color that was left in his face fled immediately leaving his gaze more pallor than that of a corpse. He couldn't believe his eyes. A pale, glowing haze was forming near the stump. It formed into the shape of a man: a disheveled, old man with a crazed look in his eyes. It was almost as if he was there, alive again. The spirit sat on the stump and pointed a gnarled, shaky finger at Arthur. A sly smile formed across the man's face. Slowly, the Baker approached the figure in the clearing. He opened his mouth but it bore no words. Finally, a short phrase stumbled from between his lips.

"I thought you were dead…"


End file.
